


The Incident

by Rehtaeh_Elocin



Series: Chicken Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Bus, Bus Driver Dean, Chickens, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26969686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehtaeh_Elocin/pseuds/Rehtaeh_Elocin
Summary: Dean drives a bus for a living. Super boring and ordinary, until one day a guy drags a random large item on. Dean is intrigued, and wants to know more when the man continues to bring weird things onto the bus, but he never says anything. At least, until "The Incident".
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Chicken Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972579
Comments: 18
Kudos: 105





	The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from a prompt I found on the discord server. I'll post the prompt at the bottom.
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful GISHmates for the ideas of what Cas is bringing onto the bus.
> 
> Now with art by the wonderful Marvfortytwo and Symharmony!

It's a Wednesday when it first happens. A regular old boring ordinary Wednesday. Dean maneuvers the bus down his usual route, picking up regulars and new faces alike.

It's not like he's never seen the guy before. He's not exactly a regular, but on occasion Dean picks him up from different spots downtown, and the guy gets off at the same stop on the outskirts.

Dean knows this because he absolutely doesn't ever stare at the guy as he's boarding. He hasn't noticed his shock of dark unruly hair, or his piercing blue eyes, or his large hands with the long nimble fingers as he flashes his bus pass.

Okay, who's he kidding. He checks the guy out whenever he gets the opportunity. Dude is hot, and he can't help himself. He's a professional though, so all he ever does is give the guy a polite nod to acknowledge his pass, and the guy takes a seat.

This Wednesday, though. This Wednesday is even less than ordinary. Every passenger is calm and well behaved, there are no arguments or full out fights, no babies crying, and nobody with bad b.o. stinking up his bus. As nice as it is to not have to break up a fight, or to not have to discreetly breathe through his mouth so as to inhale as little of the smell as possibly, it's also _boring_.

Or, it was, until he makes a stop downtown and sees the top of that dark hair behind the crowd loading onto the bus. Everyone else gets on, and when Dean next looks at him he can barely see the man around the... Is that a fern? Yeah, it's a giant potted fern, as tall, if not taller, than the man.

The guy is moving it up onto the bus step by step, and when he finally hits the last one he pulls his pass out and flashes it at Dean. Doesn't say a fucking word about the giant plant he's dragging onto the bus, just shows his pass, turns, and pulls the fern down the aisle.

Dean watches in his mirror as the guy gets it down to one of the benches that face sideways. He sits down, pulls the plant against him, tucking it between his thighs, and then just sits there.

Everyone else on the bus is staring at the guy, but he's paying no attention, just going about his business like this is nothing unusual. It's really something.

Dean realizes he's staring and should probably be moving the bus about now, so he closes the door and pulls back into traffic. A while later, the man drags the fern off the bus at his usual stop, and Dean watches as he starts to pull it down the sidewalk.

Shaking his head at the strange situation, Dean pulls the bus out and continues with the rest of his boring Wednesday. 

\--

It happens again less than a week later, this time on Monday. Different stop, same man, but this time he's carrying a door. Yes, a fucking door, a door to the front of a house. It's clearly old, the paint peeling, the knob a dull brass.

Dean has no idea how he does it, but Fern Guy manages to maneuver it through the door and up the stairs. Dean's baffled, but nods as he flashes his bus pass and heads down the aisle with his door, parking himself in the same spot he did last week.

Dean wants to ask so badly, wants to say 'hey dude, what's with the door? And the plant last week?' But he's a professional damnit, and it's really none of his business. Fern Guy isn't bothering anyone, so Dean just continues on like this is normal.

Just like last week, people stare at him and the guy just doesn't give a shit. He holds his door in front of him until his stop, gets off, and heads down the street.

\--

The next day, Fern Guy is back, but he's not carrying anything. He gets onto the bus, flashes his pass, and sits down in a regular seat.

Curiosity killing him, Dean continues on with his day.

\--

Two days later, Fern Guy gets on with a giant mirror. A huge old mirror, the kind that would be in the foyer of one of those fancy ass mansions where nothing has been updated in 150 years.

He sits with the mirror facing him, and Dean can see his reflection in the bus mirror. Fern Guy looks up, straight into Dean's eyes, and Dean can't help but shoot him a charming smile. The man's lip quirks slightly, not quite a returning smile, but pretty close.

He still wants to ask, but he doesn't.

\--

This goes on for months.

Every few days to weeks, the guy gets on the bus, sometimes empty handed, but usually with another large item: a cello, a rocking chair, a deconstructed antique couch frame, an awful clown painting, a huge velvet Elvis ( _what the fuck?!_ ), a duck statue, a heavy concrete bird bath, several times he brings on large closed containers that Dean doesn't know the contents of, a toilet ( _what in the actual fuck?!_ ), children's bikes decrepit with age, and so many other things.

Every single time, people stare at him, and every damn time the man ignores the looks, glances at Dean in the mirror, half smiles, and that's it.

Dean's resolve to remain professional wavers more every time. He's intrigued, wants to know who this hot guy is and what he's doing with all these seemingly random items.

He holds strong though, and never says anything.

Until "The Incident".

\--

It's a Thursday night and Dean is working later than usual, taking the last routes of the day to cover for a friend who has a date. It's been a boring, as usual, day and Dean is very much looking forward to finishing the shift and having the next few days off.

His bus is empty as he makes his way down the main strip downtown. There's someone sitting on the bus bunch, so Dean pulls up and opens the door. Its Fern Guy (as Dean's been silently calling him for months now, though he's never had another potted plant after that first time).

Fern Guy stands, bends over and scoops up something into his arms, then climbs on the bus. He's holding something very large and square, but its covered in a sheet.

The guy struggles to reach in his pocket for his pass without setting the item down, so Dean says the first words he's ever spoken to the man. "It's cool, I recognize you." And nods to him. Fern Guy smiles, an actual heart melting smile, and heads back to sit down, setting the item on the bench seat next to him.

As Dean pulls out onto the road, he's very tempted to say something. They've never been alone before, and this would be the perfect opportunity. He wars with himself over it. Fern Guy's stop will be his last one of the night, then he can head back to the station.

It's silent in the bus, they still have a good ten minutes until they're at the last stop, when all of a sudden Fern Guy says "shit!" and all hell breaks loose.

There's noises behind Dean, and hes trying hard to keep his eyes on the road but also figure out what the fuck is happening back there by flicking his eyes quickly to the mirror.

Fern Guy has the sheet off what Dean can now see is a cage, he's standing up trying to keep his balance while attempting to collect things that are scurrying around the bus, things that are making a shit ton of noise.

"What the hell?!" Dean says, still trying to figure out what's happening. He can see something floating in the corner of his eye, and glances over to see a feather drifting down, landing on his lap. "The fuck?"

Dean looks around the road and finds a semi safe place to pull over and throw the hazards on. Once the bus is parked, he rips off his seatbelt and is walking down the aisle in seconds.

It takes a moment for his brain to even register what's happening. Fern Guy is on his stomach on the floor now, wedged half under a seat reaching for something. There are several chickens, fucking _chickens_ , running wild around the bus, squawking and flapping around, feathers flying everywhere.

Dean dives in and quickly scoops up the closest chicken, who's apparently caught off guard. He puts his hands around it to settle the wings, then takes it straight to the cage, closing the door behind it.

By now, Fern Guy is wiggling back out from under the seat, a triumphant look on his face and a chicken in his hands. Dean reaches down wordlessly and takes it, putting it into the cage too, before helping him off the floor.

Looking around, he sees two more. "Is it just those two left?" He asks, and Fern Guy nods. There's one toward the front, and one toward the back, so they split up. Dean's quickly but quietly stalking up to the one in the front, he leans down but as soon as his fingers graze it, it takes off. Dean loses his balance and falls face first to the floor of the bus.

Not only does it fucking hurt, but it's gross as hell seeing as hundreds of people are walking over it daily, and who knows when the last time it was actually mopped was. Sputtering, Dean clambers to his knees and crawls after the asshole.

He's got it cornered in the stairs against the door, and laughs victoriously as his hands close around it. "Gotcha you little fucker." He scrambles onto his feet, and turns to see Fern Guy watching him, the other chicken safely in the cage.

Walking it back over, Dean puts it into the cage, closes the door back and makes sure the lock is secure before looking at Fern Guy.

"You brought live chickens onto my bus." He says, obviously.

Fern Guy looks ashamed when he answers. "I did, I'm sorry. It was not my intention, but I had no choice." And fuck, that voice is nice.

"No choice? What the hell?" Dean says, on the irritated side. He's embarrassed and feels gross thanks to his faceplant, and that tends to come out as angry in him.

"I'm really sorry, I just-" Fern Guy starts, but gets cut off.

The radio at the front of the bus crackles to life. "413 what's your location?"

"Fuck." Dean says, looking at his watch, realizing the search and rescue took way longer than he thought. "The bus was supposed to be back ten minutes ago. I'm so fucked." Dean mutters, stalking up to the front and picking up the radio. "413 on my way back to the station, be there in five."

"Copy that 413." The radio says.

Dean turns to Fern Guy. "Look, I gotta get this bus back now otherwise my ass is getting reamed. You're coming with, and I will take you home myself." He sighs, and lightens his tone, rubbing a hand down his face. "If that's okay with you. Otherwise I can take you to your stop and just deal with it."

"No, that's okay. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me." He says, looking even more ashamed.

"It's cool. Just, grab a seat." Dean says, settling down into his chair and starting the bus back up. He flips the off duty sign, and heads toward the station, pulling in within five minutes like he'd said.

Dean stops the bus in the parking lot. "I'm gonna drop you here, because they'll have a fit if someone's with me when I pull in. That's my car, the black Impala" Dean says, pointing toward it. "Just wait there for me, I shouldn't be more than ten minutes."

Fern Guy nods, gathers his chicken cage, and deboards the bus without saying a word.

Dean gets the bus rolling again, pulled into the station, has the stray feathers cleaned up and is out in less than five minutes. The bosses are gone for the day, but he gets a stern look from the dispatcher at the desk. Dean doesn't say a word, quickly clocks out, gathers his stuff, and heads back toward the parking lot on foot.

All the way back to his car, he's admonishing himself. What the hell was he thinking, offering to give a complete stranger and his _chickens_ a ride home? The guy could be a serial killer, and murder him. Or worse, he could end up with chicken shit all over baby's leather.

As he approaches, he see Fern Guy standing next to the Impala, phone in hand and cage on the ground by his feet, brow furrowed.

"You alright?" Dean asks.

Fern Guy sighs. "I was going to see if my brother could come get me so I wouldn't put you out any more than I already have, but he's not answering. I'm sorry." He looks so damn concerned, the rest of Dean's annoyance melts away.

"Look, it's fine. I'm sorry if I snapped at you, I was just surprised and it's been a long day. I don't mind giving you a ride." Dean says sincerely.

Some of the worry falls from Fern Guy's face, and Dean feels better. "Well, thank you." He says.

"It's no problem. I'm Dean, by the way. Winchester." He says, holding out his hand.

Fern Guy takes it. "I'm Castiel Novak. You can call me Cas though if you'd like."

"It's nice to officially meet you." Dean says, shaking his hand, and damn it's a nice hand. It's always looked nice, but it feels nice too, warm and big and soft with a few rough calluses.

"You too Dean." Cas says, smiling a genuine smile now.

Dean unlocks the doors and Cas lays down the sheet on the back seat, carefully setting the chicken cage on top of it, which Dean appreciates so much.

Once they're both inside, and the car is started, Dean turns toward Cas. "So, you live near the stop you usually get off at?" He asks.

"Oh, yes, sorry. Yes, I live about a block away from there. You can drop me off at the stop if you don't want to take me all the way home." He says.

"I really don't mind, as long as you're comfortable with it." Dean says, pulling his car out onto the street toward Cas'.

"I'm fine with it." Cas says, and settles back into his seat.

It's silent for a couple of minutes, the only noises the car and the chickens settling in in the back. Finally, Dean has to ask, because he's been waiting fucking months and he can't wait anymore. "So, chickens? I mean, you've brought some weird stuff on there, the door, the statue, the fucking toilet? What's up with that? And why chickens?"

"Ah, yes." Cas says, clearing his throat. Dean looks at him from the corner of his eye and can see he's a little red. "Well, I'm an artist. I fix things up, make them better and sell them, and if I can't then I repurpose them into some form of art."

"So, you're repurposing chickens how, exactly?" Dean asks with a laugh.

Cas shakes his head but smiles. "I'm not. I told you, they weren't planned." He sighs. "I went there to buy something else from the guy that he'd posted on Craigslist, and he had the chickens. Said he couldn't take care of them, something about them being his wife's and she left, I don't really know. Anyway, he said he was just going to dump them off somewhere, or turn them into dinner, and I couldn't just leave them."

A spread of warmth washes through Dean's body at the caring words, the soft tone that Cas said them in. "Wow." Is all he can think to say.

"I really am sorry. If I'd have known, I would've taken my car today instead of the bus. But it was last minute, and I thought they'd be fine. I honestly don't know how the cage got open."

"Wait, so you have a car but take the bus?" Dean asks.

"Ah, yes. Well, the things I've been getting wont fit into my car, and my truck broke down a while back so I figured the bus was the best solution." Cas replies, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm sorry if I've made things hard for you. I can stop, if you'd like."

Dean shakes his head. "You haven't. It's been no trouble, at least not until today." He says with a laugh.

"I couldn't let them die, Dean." Cas says quietly, and Dean feels affection at that.

"I know" he replies.

A few minutes later, they're passing the bus stop and Cas is pointing him in the direction of his house. Dean pulls down a long gravel driveway to a nice two story farm house and stops the car.

Putting it into park, he takes a look around. It's pretty secluded back here, big open field in the back with a large building, house surrounded by trees on either side. He really could get murdered out here and no one would know, but somehow he doesn't feel worried at all.

He turns to look at Cas as he's unbuckling his seatbelt. Cas hesitates with his hand on the door. "Well, thank you. For the ride, and being so understanding." He says, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and biting down.

Dean can't help but watch it for a second before his eyes flick back up to Cas'. "It's really no problem. Barely out of my way at all." He says.

As Cas moves to get out, Dean suddenly doesn't want to leave yet. Just another minute. "Hey" when Cas stops and turns back to him, Dean scrambles to think of something to say. "If, uh... If you ever need help with anything, you can call me. I don't live too far from here, and I have a truck. She's old, but she gets the job done." He says, really unsure of why he made the offer but not taking it back because he means it. If Cas asked for his help, he'd absolutely be there, but he's not even sure why he feels that way.

Cas smiles a brilliant blinding smile and looks down. "Thank you Dean." He says, before pushing his phone into Dean's hands. Dean quickly enters his number, and hands it back. "I appreciate it."

"Any time." He says, and finds he means that too.

"So, maybe I can buy you dinner sometime, to say thank you." Cas says quietly, looking back into Dean's eyes, and Dean's hit with that bright blue again.

"You don't have to do that." Dean says, and can see Cas' face fall minutely. "I don't need the thanks. But, if you'd like to just go out sometime, I'd really like that." He really fucking hopes he's not misreading this situation.

Cas smiles again, beautiful and shining. "I'd like that too." He opens the door, steps out, and collects his chickens from the back seat. "I'll talk to you soon. Goodbye, Dean." He says, closing the door and walking up the path to the house.

"Bye Cas" Dean says to the inside of the car. He watches to make sure Cas gets inside, then drives home.

Once inside his house, Dean takes a quick shower, because gross bus floor, and changes into sweats then collapses onto the couch. He turns the TV on, and a minute later his phone beeps with a message from an unknown number.

 **Unknown** : So, how about tomorrow? - Cas

Dean smiles to himself, feeling happiness flood through him.

 **Dean** : Sounds perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm considering making this a short series, just to see how their date goes, if you're interested.
> 
> Prompt:  
> AU where Dean is a city bus driver and Cas is a route regular who is often struggling to board with huge stuff he’s bought off someone on Craigslist that everybody on the bus stares at him for.  
> For months Dean's been working up the courage to actually talk to the dude, something more than just the cool, "hey bro" nod. And then the Live Chicken Incident happens.


End file.
